How to Catch An Angel
by Nicole Berman
Summary: Mac says yes to Mic's proposal. Is it a match made in heaven or a hell of a mistake?


I step off the plane with a half-smile. "Hey, Mic," I say quietly, slipping my arm around his waist. "It's been a while."  
  
"Feels like forever." Mic smiles at me and kisses my cheek. "I have a million plans for this weekend, Sarah, so what would you like to do first?"  
  
I smile back, Mic's smirking grin erasing the memories of the conversation I'd had with Harm not twenty-four hours earlier. "Can we go back to your place? I need to shower and change before...dinner." The time change always gives me pause. My internal clock was saying it was 1100, when the sun was just about setting over the Australian horizon. "Where are we going, anyway? All you told me over the phone was that it was 'someplace special'," I pretend to complain. The truth is that Mic's little surprises are the highlight of my life most of the time. I never know when a dozen roses will appear on my desk overnight, or a ring will pop out of his pocket on a ferry in the middle of Sydney. Mic keeps me on my toes and I love it.  
  
We load my overnight bag into the trunk and set off in Mic's little white sedan. As he navigates the curving roads, my eyes trace the outline of his face. True, Mic Brumby's not the most handsome man God ever made, but he's certainly not ugly. He's got the deepest blue eyes a girl could ask for, and the smile that he flashes, when he thinks he knows something you don't, is the most darling thing I've ever seen. Well, almost.  
  
Mic knows the truth, we've discussed it all before. He knows I love Harm, and a part of me always will. But he also knows that Harmon Rabb, Jr. is one of the most stubborn men in the world, and he's been pussy-footing around me for too long. If a ring on my finger from another man isn't enough to pull Harm's head out of his six, nothing will be. I have to accept that and move on. Momma was right when she said you can't wait around for love forever. You have to go with security. And no matter what, Mic wants me to be happy. That's something I don't think I can say about Harm, at least, not yet. Mic says if it'll make me happy to wait for Harm, I should do it. I know he means it, because he doesn't look at me when he says it.  
  
"What's that look for, Sarah?" he asks. My breath catches a little at way his accent changes my name to a beautiful song. Maybe it's not the accent, though, maybe it's just the way he says it. Oh, it would be so easy to fall in love with this adorable little sailor if I let myself. So why aren't I yet?  
  
"Nothing," I smile, reaching over for his hand. *Please let me feel it*, I beg my heart. *Let me fall for Mic, and forget Harm's blue eyes and flyboy grin.*  
  
Mic smiles, probably reading my mind. He always asks what I'm thinking, but he really doesn't have to. He knows me inside out, better than anyone but Harm. "How's Rabb?"  
  
"He's fine," I say simply, staring at the ring on my right hand.  
  
"Good. And everyone else?"  
  
"Bud and Harriet are doing fine," I say softly. "Little AJ's growing like a weed." I catch Mic up on the rest of the office gossip, though it's been only a few months since he's visited JAG Ops.  
  
Mic pulls up outside his apartment building and comes around to open my door, before I have a chance to do it myself. I blush a little, and laugh. "I can open a door, I'm not an invalid."  
  
"No, you're a princess," Mic corrects me with a smile, taking my overnight bag and leading me up the small flight of stairs to his apartment.  
  
An hour later, showered and refreshed, I make my way into the living room. Mic hands me a mug of coffee, which I take gratefully. "Thanks," I murmur, taking a sip. I put the cup down on an end table, toweling my hair dry and running a brush through the silky strands.  
  
Mic watches me carefully, his eyes following the motion of the brush.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing," he says quietly, turning away in embarrassment.  
  
"Oh, come on, Mic. This is *me*," I say with a little laugh, tossing my head. "It can't be that bad."  
  
Mic stands and comes a little closer, then closer still. Then there's only a hand's width between us, and he speaks softly. "I was just thinking how badly I want to kiss you, Sarah."  
  
*Always the gentleman,* I think, staring at my feet. *And it always catches me off-guard...because I don't deserve it.* "Why?"  
  
"Why?" Mic's laugh rings out in the small apartment. "Why?"  
  
"Yeah, why?" I repeat, fiddling with the brush in my hands. "You keep saying you love me, but I'm still not sure why."  
  
"Sarah," Mic says, his voice still tinted with laughter. "You're amazing. You're a wonderful, challenging, beautiful woman, and yet you have no idea." He reaches out and takes my chin in his palm, raising my eyes to meet his. "And to top it off, you're my mate. I've never been friends with a woman before."  
  
I smile broadly, my heart pounding in my chest. "Mic," is all I can manage, but I hope my eyes speak louder than my words.  
  
Apparently they do, since Mic leans in and takes my lips in his, his arms circling my waist. His kiss is tender and gentle, not like the hurried embrace we shared in the airport months ago. All Mic's jokes are gone and the veneer of the cocky Navy man disappears, revealing the soft, kind man I've seen glimpses of all along. As Mic's tongue traces my lips, awaiting permission to seek out my tongue, I feel the spark start in my heart and work its way to my stomach, awakening the butterflies. My arms, of their own volition, wrap around Mic's neck, pulling him into me. All thoughts fly out of my head, save for one. This feels better than I'd remembered.  
  
I can't believe I'm standing here, kissing Mic Brumby. This is the man who's been irritating me and pursuing me since the day we met. I've never felt much for him, other than friendship, until one day...It's hard to explain, even to myself, but there came a day when, looking at Mic, I suddenly realized I could see a future with him. I could see a home, a family, a white picket fence; everything I'd ever dreamed of. That was the day he first kissed me--the day he left to go back to Australia. As usual, I'd waited too long and had lost the little chance at happiness that existed for me. Or so I thought. I knew then that I wasn't in love with Mic, but I loved him and I was sure that would be enough to build a future on, if he hadn't been moving ten thousand miles away. Less than a month later, I was on a jet, winging my way towards Mic, and destiny--if they'd both have me.  
  
When Mic proposed to me, that night in Sydney, I still wasn't sure what I wanted, that's why I put it on my right hand. I could see our future, but there was always a chance that Harm would come to his senses and sweep me up in his arms and tell me he loved me. Six months later, when it still hadn't happened and Mic still said he loved and wanted me, I knew my choice had been made for me. I loved Mic Brumby, and Harmon Rabb would just have to live with his indecision.  
  
I slide my fingers up into Mic's short hair and I smile against his mouth. Mic's hands are on my back, keeping me close, and his mouth is igniting a fire within me that has been smoldering for way too long. I feel the tingle in my stomach as my body responds to his kiss, and I murmur his name. "Mic..."  
  
Before things can get out of hand, Mic breaks the kiss. He smiles at me, a knowing smile which says he felt in my kiss what I felt from his. He knows.  
  
I can't speak for a moment, so I just grin. When I catch my breath, I reach for my purse. "I'm starved. Let's go."  
  
Mic winks. "Anything for you, sheila."  
  
Playing up my innocent smile, I giggle. "Sheila? You're already calling me by other women's names? Tsk tsk, Mr. Brumby. That's not a good start to a relationship."  
  
"'Sheila' means 'lady', over here, Colonel," he laughs, knowing full well that I know most Australian slang.  
  
I wink, slipping past Mic into the car. "Oh, really? I had no idea." I don't get much of a chance to drop my Marine exterior and just be a woman, and I fully appreciate every minute with Mic for that very reason. I can just be me: strong, weak, pure, perverted, Marine or high-school girl...whichever side of me wants to come out to play is allowed. Most men are much too structured for me in that respect...but not Mic. He seems to be the exception to most of the rules I've formed from years of dating. He breaks tradition in all the best ways.  
  
I break out of my thoughts when Mic opens the car door again. I notice that I'm quickly getting used to being treated like this, and beginning to enjoy the hell out of it.  
  
As we settle down in a corner booth and Mic orders our drinks, I skim the menu. My head snaps up as I feel Mic's foot brushing mine. I chuckle silently, kicking his foot away gently. "Yellow light," I murmur. The look in his eyes surprises me, extremely caring but at the same time, very playful, and...what was that? Lustful? Oh, now *there's* the Mic Brumby I've come to know and love.  
  
All through dinner, Mic sits listening to my stories about my latest visit with Chloe as if it's the most fascinating thing he's ever heard. He doesn't interrupt once, commenting only when I ask if he's still awake. He's staring so intently at me that I'm almost uncomfortable under his gaze. But somewhere deep down, I'm flattered by the attention. No man has ever treated me this way, the way Mic does: with respect, and honest caring and constant devotion. Mic is always there when I need someone to talk to, especially lately. I'm just waiting for the bomb to drop--the moment when he'll show his true self, which I'm sure is just like every other man in my life. I'm sure there'll be some event, something which will ruin all the lovely conversations and the spectacular fun we've had in the six months since our trip to Australia.  
  
I smile through those thoughts and slip out of the booth, standing slowly. "Can we take a walk? I want to talk to you, privately."  
  
"Sure," Mic says with a nod. He leaves the money on table and we step out into the cool August night. I'm always amazed by the reversal of the seasons here, how August is winter and January is summer. I shiver slightly, pulling my sweater tightly around me. Mic slides his arm confidently around my shoulders as we walk down the sidewalk. The lights of the shops twinkle merrily, guiding us along.  
  
"Mic," I begin, completely unsure of myself. "First, I want you to know that I really appreciate everything you've done, everything you've been to me. I can't tell you how much it means to have a shoulder to lean on, with everything that's been going on." I purposely leave off the end of the sentence. *everything that's been going on--with Harm.* "Anyway, thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," Mic says simply. The ensuing silence encourages me to continue my rambling.  
  
"Secondly," I say, my voice strengthening along with my resolve, "I wanted you to be with me for this." I slip his ring off my right hand and onto my left. The diamond sparkles in the moonlight, from atop its perch on my ring finger.  
  
Mic releases the breath he was holding. "Oh, God, Mac, you scared me!" He laughs softly. "I thought for sure you were going to tell me where to put that thing."  
  
I chuckle, slipping my hand into his. "No. Don't get me wrong," I say, a note of warning in my voice, "I'm still sure this is going to blow up in our faces. But until it does, I'm willing to play it out." I turn and lean my elbows on a nearby railing, looking out over the shops, shining in the darkness. I feel Mic's hands slide around my waist. He flips his hands so that they're palm-up. I rest my palms on his, enjoying the warmth of his touch. This wasn't the rush of adrenaline I'd had when I accepted Chris' proposal, but look how that had turned out, anyway. Maybe a marriage built on friendship is better than one built on 'true love', whatever that is. I find myself finally relaxing completely in Mic's arms, leaning back against him with a contented sigh.  
  


* * *  
  


The phone shrills in my ear. I reach for the telephone receiver, lifting it to my head. "Hello?" I sleepily greet the dial tone. "Shit." I grab my cell phone off the nightstand, flipping it open. "Mackenzie."  
  
"Mac." Harm's voice is quiet, and I can barely hear him.  
  
"Harm, what's wrong?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.  
  
"I need you to come back to DC." Harm explains the situation to me, and his voice almost breaks twice. My heart, meanwhile, is tearing in two for him.  
  
"All right," I murmur. "I'll be at your apartment by 0800 tomorrow. Bye, Harm."  
  
"Rabb?" Mic asks, unnecessarily, having heard most of the conversation.  
  
"Yeah," I murmur. "He needs me to go back to DC." I know that Harm's taking me away from Mic can destroy us more effectively than work, geography and our respective pasts put together. I wait for Mic to explode, almost welcoming it. Then I can yell, slap him, pack my things and throw his ring in his face. That's the way the fairy tale always ends with me, isn't it?  
  
Mic nods understandingly, not moving from his spot in the doorway to his bedroom. "Well, get dressed and I'll take you out for breakfast before we head to the airport."  
  
My head spins as I look up into Mic's half-smile. "What?"  
  
"Breakfast," he teases. "You know, the meal that comes before lunch?"  
  
"But..." I stop speaking, relief flooding over me. Since when has Mic been like *anyone* else in my life? When has a man ever slept on his own couch, to avoid making me feel pressured? When has a man let me go to another man's side, because he understands the value of a good friend? When has a man kissed me like Mic did, and not growled and complained when I told him I wanted to wait a while longer before we made love? The answer, as always with sweet Mic Brumby, is "never".  
  
As we headed down the highway to the airport, I turned from the window to look at Mic. "Hey, you know what I just realized?" I say with a laugh. "We're engaged! How weird is that?" I ask, playing with the cool band of the diamond solitaire.  
  
"Very weird," Mic agrees, "since less than a year ago, you would've slapped me as soon as look at me," he laughs.  
  
"Well, you were a little persistent, you know," I point out.  
  
Mic smiles, as if he's known something all along, and I just figured it out. "I had to be. The only way to catch an angel is to be there when she falls."  
  
THE END


End file.
